Secrets, Secrets
by highflyer101
Summary: A brief examination of Ron's thoughts during the Yule Ball.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've always loved this scene. Some things aren't exactly in order. **

Ronald Weasley had always found Hermione Granger attractive. She was smart, and driven, and he liked that about her. (Not _like-like, _because it was Hermione, and he couldn't like her… Or… No. It was just weird.) And it had always endeared him that no one else really paid any attention to her, so she was _his. _(Not that he wanted her to be his. He just liked that she was.) And then fourth year happened.

People liked to say that girls 'grew into their looks,' and if anyone did, it was Hermione. When she reached the Burrow early one morning and they had awkwardly hugged, he couldn't help but notice that her waist was considerably tinier than last year, and her hair quite a bit tamer. Harry had even pointed it out to Ron when he arrived. ("Hermione looks different. Better.") Ron had been a little worried that soon she wouldn't just be his, but also Dean's, and Seamus', and Neville's. Then, his fears were mostly allayed when Beauxbatons showed up, and everyone focused on them. Who would've known that Viktor Krum would've had a taste for nerdy girls?

He did, though. And Hermione cleaned up nice. _(Nicely, _he could hear her telling him. Even in his head, he depended on her.) Her gorgeous, shiny, coffee-colored hair twirled gently around her clear face. The light blue dress she chose so perfectly hugged her thin waist, accenting her beauty. He couldn't help how his heart skipped a beat when her eyes shown with happiness. It felt wrong when she hooked arms with Vicky, a smile playing on her lips. Ron knew that her petite form wouldn't fit into Krum's anywhere near as well as it would with his. Suddenly, Padma, or Petra, or whatever that girl next to him's name was, didn't seem nearly as pretty.

"Are you going to ask me to dance?," his date huffed. Briefly, he considered if maybe Hermione would be jealous if he danced with another girl, but he could tell from the delighted look on her face that she wouldn't be. He moved on to the possibility that maybe _he _could forget Hermione, but he could never. He wouldn't be able to dance unless she was nestled in his arms.

"No," he responded bluntly, not much caring that she stalked off with some Durmstang boy. Desperately, he tried to conjure pictures of Fleur, or anyone he had previously found the least bit attractive, and they all seemed disturbingly lackluster. He scowled at his stupidity. How could he let himself fall in love-yes, he knew he loved her now-with his best friend? How could he jeopardize his whole relationship? He couldn't stand to be rejected and forgotten by her, only he wasn't sure he could stand to feel this way.

"Hi." He vaguely heard Harry's voice next to him, and turned to snap at him that he'd been sitting there for what felt like hours. Then he saw her, looking like a fairy, giggling way too girlishly in front of him. He imagined that her lips were slightly bruised, and a green monster reared it's ugly head. His vision blurred red, and he bit back tears. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"It's hot, isn't it?," she asked. _No, _he though venomously. _You're just too turned on by dearest, darling-est Viktor. _"Viktor's gone to get some drinks." That did it. All of Ron's self-pity morphed into undying anger, and disgust.

_"Viktor?," _he sputtered. "Hasn't he asked you to call him _Vicky _yet?" Harry shot him a warning look. He knew exactly what Ron was getting at, had since Hermione was petrified. He had always known that deep down, Ron loved Hermione. He assumed they'd figure it out. But from the look Hermione was giving Ron, he didn't know if Ron would be alive to marry _anyone _in an hour.

"What's up with you?" Ron could see her assumption in her eyes. She thought he was jealous of her happiness. Oh, if only that was all. "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," Ron improvised wildly. He wouldn't be confessing his love anytime soon. Harry's eyes burned into the side of Ron's head, as he shrugged at Hermione, unable to explain his friend's behavior.

"Ron, what-?" Her voice was flooded with panic, and Ron relished in it. Now she had a taste of what it was like to lose someone you needed, you wanted.

"He's from Durmstang! He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You're-you're-_fraternizing with the enemy." _He prayed she bought it. Apparently, she did.

"Don't be so stupid! The _enemy! _Honestly-who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in his dormitory?" Ron allowed himself a moment of pride that she knew him so well, and pushed it away.

They continued to shoot petty insults at each other, Ron trying to make reasons why Hermione was really _his, _not Krum's. He couldn't help at Hermione's suggestion that Krum wanted to be friends. _Wants a bit more than friendship, _he thought to himself. He barely could see through his rage enough to throw Krum off Hermione's trail, and stroll around campus for a while.

He was slightly distracted from Hermione at the discovery of Hagrid's genealogy, slightly happier. It just didn't seem as important if he could have taught Hermione wizard etiquette, petty as it sounded. His mind cleared, and he was simply struck with grief, and an urge to run to her an beg for forgiveness.

"Hermione?," he began when he saw her in the common room. He was terrified to notice the tracks of tears on her face. If it was Krum's fault, Ron would kill him faster than Harry caught a snitch.

"Leave me _alone, _Ronald," she spat. "Isn't this what you wanted? My night in ruins?" His heart broke in guilt.

"I-no-that's-This is Vicky's fault!," he shouted childishly.

"For the last time, don't call him that!," she fired back, standing up to make her point. "And for your information, _Viktor _and I had a fabulous time, and it could have been a dream if you hadn't flown off the handle-"

"What?," Ron asked in confusion.

_"For goodness sake, it's an expression! _You-you, you just can't stand that I didn't _wait _for you, and that possibly, someone actually _likes _me! Which is in fact possible, even if that idea's alien to you-"

"Hermione," he tried to begin.

"Don't 'Hermione' me, after you've ruined the one night I've had where I wasn't running around, digging you out of your problems-"

"Hermione!" Her shoulder's sagged, and she glared at him fiercely. "Thank-you," Ron said at the silence. "I just don't like it," he told her softly. Hermione laughed sardonically.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" _Beating the crap out of Krum. _

"Oh yeah? What?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" The floor was pulled from beneath Ron's feet. She couldn't _know, _not _possibly-_

"Well… Well-That just proves," he started. "Completely missed the point," he choked out as the last of her periwinkle train disappeared behind the corner. Harry raised a doubtful eyebrow at him, telling Ron that he guessed something more was going on. Ron pouted to himself. He needed to learn to keep a better secret.

**A/N: Review!**


	2. Surprise!

**A/N: Hello again, dear readers. Since all my readers have always been so loyal to me, I wanted to let you know that I am officially retiring from FanFiction so I can work with more of my own characters. I also wanted to let you know about a story I'm writing on my Wattpad account (apprenticeofathena) so that if you like the stories I've written on here, you can look into it. It's a mystery, by the way, called Politically Incorrect. Here's a summary:**

****_Stella Harvey is America's sweetheart. At least, that's what she's been told. In a tragic accident, Stella lost the past five years of her memory, meaning she doesn't remember her dad's new wife, doesn't recognize her new makeover, and certainly doesn't have the slightest clue that her dad is the President of the United States of America. In an effort to remember, Stella begins to search for clues about the five years she's missing. Clues that lead her to shocking revelations about her past and even more questions. When did Stella become popular? What happened to her life in New York? And, most importantly, was the accident really an accident?_

__**If you're interested, it would mean SO much to me if you could check it out and comment. I posted a link to my Wattpad profile on my wall and would be so honored if you would check it out. Thank-you so much guys! Obviously I've never met any of you be for, but I'm sure gonna miss you now that I'm leaving FF! Mwa, mwa! **


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